“Go ahead and throw a Tempra Tantrum tonight by drinking in the passion, flavor, style, and emotion that embodies modern Spain. As a new generation global vintner, I love to blend international varietals with the quintessentially Spanish Tempranillo grape for a wine that is vibrant, plush, and in a word — sexy. I have a passion for innovative winemaking, and my 2008 Tempranillo/Grenache is crafted from my family’s low-yielding vineyards in a modern New World style. Critics call it a “Best Value,” but I call it an expression of my life.”

Ugh.

Now I’m not saying there was anything wrong with the wine — it was actually quite delicious — one might even say “vibrant,” although I’m not sure I agree with “plush.” And sexy? What makes a wine sexy? I guess if I drink enough. . . (at first I wrote “I guess if I have drink enough.” I guess that means I have.)

But the self-consciously self-promoting rhetoric is perhaps laid on a bit thick to go with my Greek burger and sweet potato fries, although it wasn’t bad with the Lindt dark-chocolate-with-a-touch-of-sea-salt.

The conversation at dinner went something like this.

Husband: I can’t read this label without my glasses.

Me: I’ll read it.

Husband: You can’t read that.

I read it.

Ugh.

Husband: But the wine’s really good; I’m going back tomorrow to buy a case.